Exercise Really Is Medicine
It was a little over a month ago that I lay on my weight bench in the garage with tears of frustration streaming down my face. I had just completed a 15 minute “workout” consisting of a few unweighted lunges, some hip bridges, and 3 sets of 5 reverse abdominal curls. This was all I could do, since I still had a PICC line in my arm and couldn’t chance any upper body work (I’ve learned that important life lesson). As it turned out, the 3 exercises I chose were clearly enough, as my heart rate after the last rep was about 300 bpm and I felt like if I rolled off the bench right then, I might have to call my son in to help me up.
I was a mess.
I suppose I had a good reason for the tears. This was the third bout of pneumonia in just four months, and I was sick and tired of being sick and tired. It was also my first attempt at any form of exercise other than easy walking in well over a month, and my physical fragility was frightening. Normally when I exercise, I am a bit of a taskmaster. I push myself pretty hard and usually do more than I set out to do. But today was different. I was a complete wimp.
I was nearly at the end of my course of antibiotics and the PICC was coming out in two days. This meant that I had been receiving medications to eradicate lung infections for four of the the last five weeks. That is a lot of antibiotics. There was likely not a viable bacterium to be found in my body. Indeed, my cough was gone, the pain of pleural inflammation was gone, and I could actually eat again. But, where was my mojo? I still felt like crap, and this was the kicker. Normally, at the end of a course of IV’s, I am raring to go, having planned my fitness regimen for the next three months. This time was different, and I was worried.
Of course, my partner reminded me that I would get better…that I always did…and that I needed to be patient. My rational mind knew this, but my emotional self kept whispering, “What if this is it? The beginning of the end? Your 53 year good luck streak has to end sometime…”. I hate that voice.
So, ten pounds of muscle mass down (which was obvious as I watched my legs trembling as I got up from the bench), I vowed to give my secret weapon the old college try and to stop listening to emotional self until the end of the trial. Antibiotics are needed, as are pulmonary clearance and airway treatments. Sleep is king, and hydration and good caloric intake does wonders. But, the best medicine of all, at least in my experience, is daily exercise. It makes me breathe deeper. It gets me outside. It makes me cough up junk. It builds an appetite. It makes me, ahem….regular. But most of all, it feeds my soul.
So, tears now dried, I developed my plan. It was a modified version of my plans of the past…much easier…much slower progressing.
Walking is always the foundation of my recovery, and will be until the day I can’t walk anymore. But walking further than I should due to training for a half-marathon when sick was what landed me in the hospital with pneumonia number two, so I had to be cautious. I decided to cut in half the time I thought I should be able to walk, and add just a few weight training exercises only three days/week. These were front squats, kettlebell swings (only 10 at a time), and Turkish get-ups with a very light kettlebell. That’s it. I wanted to do more, but my shoulder was messed up (thanks to levoquin), and I had to be careful not to rupture a tendon.
So that’s what I did. Over time, my walks became walk/jogs, and my two kettlebell exercises proved to work magic, as I knew they would. Today, I’m doing swing intervals as easily as I was before the s&#t hit the fan back in January. My shoulder is getting stronger and I’m able to press again. I can breathe. I’m not coughing. I’ve gained back 6 pounds.
Yes, the antibiotics did wonders. Thank God (and Barb) I have insurance and great medical care! But there is no doubt in my mind that what converted me from that trembling, weak mess lying on my bench last month to today, looking forward to my get-ups and KB presses, is exercise. Exercise is medicine. Very slowly but surely, it works to build up strength and endurance, to improve appetite and thus enable weight gain, and to bring me out of the doldrums to enjoying my fantastically fortunate life.